


Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

by thewriterinpink



Series: Abridged Thiefshipping Long Fics [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinpink/pseuds/thewriterinpink
Summary: After it becomes clear Bakura and Marik are struggling to communicate with each other, causing petty arguments and disagreements, Marik suggests they go to a therapist to sort it out. A mix up on Marik's part makes them end up in the office of a couple's therapist, but it's exactly this mistake that finally sets them on the right course.
Relationships: Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar
Series: Abridged Thiefshipping Long Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368523
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> This was written more than a year ago and the only reason it wasn't posted was that there was another part—a sex scene—that I couldn't finish. I've moved on from this story at this point so I just don't think that part will ever get done, but I've finally decided to just edit this and post it as is since the first part works perfectly fine on its own. 
> 
> As a side note, I feel like mentioning that I wrote this one more closer to abridge logic than real-life Eqypt logic, so that's how this situation was even able to occur. 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

“Um... Bakura? Are you still...?”

Bakura tenses under the uncertain words, glaring sharp as a knife at the sink in front of him, the water trickling out of the tap unfortunately not loud enough to drown out Marik. He grits his teeth and reaches forward, twisting the faucet all the way, the sudden onslaught of smacking pressure against the silver surface of the sink a welcoming presence. An explicit demand to be left alone. 

Marik sighs lowly behind him than sidles up closer beside him, tilting his head to try and catch Bakura’s eyes. Bakura quickly turns his face away, growling softly under his breath as a warning.

Marik gives up after a while, his expression becoming helpless and desperate. Bakura ignores him further by moving to plug the drain, deciding he’ll very much like to do the dishes instead of entertaining Marik’s attempts at reconciliation. Bakura isn’t ready to forgive Marik and he’s furiously stubborn. The anger he currently feels can’t last forever though and he knows it—he’s never been capable of keeping on to it when Marik’s the subject, but he can make it fester for a few more days if he’s careful about it. Let Marik squirm, he deserves it. Arsehole.

“Bakura,” Marik says much louder but without confidence, eyes flicking between Bakura’s unresponsive form and the water quickly filling up the sink, “I don’t know what I did or said to make you this way, but I’m sorry. Can you... can you please stop? Please. I’m sorry.”

Bakura shakes his head. He squeezes the soap bottle, the liquid dripping into the water and creating bubbles as the cascading water twists it in. Slowly, he begins placing the small stack of leftover dishes and other assorted items in. It’s as he’s reluctantly turning off the tap that Marik does the moronic thing and tries to touch him. Bakura’s hand whips out and grabs Marik’s wrist before he can reach Bakura, digging his nails viciously into the fragile skin and feeling elated at the sharp gasp of pain he manages to rouse out of the unsuspecting teenager. It’s positively delicious.

Bakura finally looks at Marik, lips twisting up into something cruel yet satisfied. He chuckles coldly and squeezes Marik’s wrist further just because he can, feeling the bones shift underneath the firm pressure of his grip. Marik winces but doesn’t pull away, a curious decision—he doesn’t have _any_ self-preservation, the useless idiot.

Bakura licks his lips and tilts his head, eyes narrowing. He sneers.

“Don’t touch me if you can’t handle the consequences of it.”

Marik’s brows furrow, clearly not understanding Bakura’s demand, but that’s not at all surprising. After all, what else is new? Nothing gets through his thick skull. Bakura doesn’t know why he even tries.

“B-Bakura, Fluffy, I know that—”

“You don’t know anything,” Bakura snaps, cutting through Marik’s strained words and practically throwing Marik’s hand back at him, his earlier satisfaction long forgotten as his mood sinks lower past their feet. “That’s your problem. You don’t know how to listen and you don’t know how to learn. Get out of my sight and find a bloody clue, Marik!”

Marik’s mouth opens but Bakura’s done with him. He turns back to his task and proceeds to pretend Marik doesn’t exist again. It seems to do the job. Marik ends up not saying anything further, just quietly staring at Bakura. Eventually, he begins to back away, expression wary.

“Okay. If it’ll make you happier if I stayed away from you, I will. Just—” Marik hesitates and forces on a weak smile— “come talk to me again when you’re ready, okay? I don’t like not hearing your voice or not seeing you. I’ll miss you.”

Bakura freezes, a dish in one hand and a dishcloth gripped tightly in the other. His body shakes under a new round of chemical responses and he bites his lip as his cheeks begin to flush under such an honest display of affection directed at him by someone he so deeply desires. If Marik didn’t do stuff like this, Bakura wouldn’t be nearly as mad at him all the time. Why does Marik have to keep getting his hopes up just for nothing to happen in the end? Doesn’t he understand that... _hurts._

Frowning, Bakura leans further over the sink to hide his unfortunate response, biting back a sigh and feeling suddenly exhausted.

“Go away, Marik...”

Marik only nods and turns away. Bakura doesn’t relax until Marik’s far gone from him, all the tension within him unravelling and leaving him feeling empty and far too alone. Annoyance settles on his shoulders once more when he realizes getting rid of Marik isn’t what he wants either. He blames Marik for giving up too easily and taking his words at face value—Marik should know by now that he doesn’t ever mean it even if he thinks he does. He’s even upset at himself for getting mad in the first place, it’s not like Marik had actually done anything. No, he was his sweet and naive self as always.

Bakura scowls. He scrubs too hard at the dish in his hand, barely registering the restless action.

“That’s part of the sodding problem...”

* * *

It’s a few days later. Bakura’s long since cooled down, back to a more normal buzz of frustration and longing, a manageable amount. He isn’t ignoring Marik anymore and they’re back to being close but not close enough. It’s maddening, but that’s how it’s always been and how it seems to want to stay. There’s nothing he can do, he’s tried _._ It simply doesn’t work.

He can feel Marik’s knee pressing into his leg under the kitchen table and it’s distracting him. If he isn’t so desperate for any form of contact from Marik he would probably pull away, but instead he lets it go on, frowning at the odd bubbling of _something_ in his chest at the prolonged contact. He forces himself to pay attention to his breakfast—eggs and sausage—and tunes into Marik’s prattling whenever he feels like listening.

Except Marik isn’t talking anymore. He’s grown strangely quiet and Bakura looks up to find him staring at him with an intense gaze. When their eyes meet, it sends a spark down Bakura’s back and a lump in his throat. His cheeks heat and he hates it. He looks quickly away and clears his throat.

“W-What?” He glares, regarding Marik from the corner of his eye. “Is there something wrong with my face? Don’t bloody stare at me!”

Marik jumps as though just now noticing what he's doing. He averts his gaze and laughs, the sound nervous and abrupt. He shakes his head.

“Of course not, Bakura! There’s nothing _ever_ wrong with your face! Why would there be? I was just—” Marik’s voice wavers and he huffs— “I was thinking about something. Something I wanted to ask you about.”

Bakura’s shoulders begin to relax and he turns his head back to look at Marik properly, lips turning down in confusion.

“What is it?”

“Well...” Marik trails off and shrugs. He pokes at his own breakfast, one of the sunny-side-up eggs popping open and spilling its yolk out onto his plate. “It’s hard to say. I know you won’t like it, but just know it’s only a suggestion, okay? You don’t have to do it. I won’t force you.”

Bakura’s eyes narrow, trying to figure out Marik’s suggestion before he even says it. Marik’s eyes flicker back up at him, visage looking close to pleading, and Bakura relents, nodding slightly. Marik lets out a slow breath.

“I don’t think we’ve been communicating very well lately. The amount of times you get angry at me without any explanation is starting to get more frequent and I don’t like it. So I thought...”

Bakura raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. The movement causes Marik’s knee to lead itself higher up Bakura’s leg, but he ignores it this time.

“You thought what, Marik? That this is somehow my fault?”

Marik’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in earnest, leaning over the table as he does so. His expression is far too soft and understanding for Bakura’s liking.

“No! I know that isn’t true. That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

Marik falters. His fingers tap against the hard surface of the table and he sighs. He stares down at his meal.

“...Therapy. I think we should go.”

“ _What?_ ”

Marik winces and holds his breath in preparation for more, but Bakura can’t find words to express his discontent with such a concept. He can only give Marik a nasty glare and wait for a better explanation. Marik relaxes once he realizes he’s being given a chance and hurries on, voice jumpy and stumbling.

“Think of it, Bakura! I don’t know anything, you said I don’t know anything, but I can’t understand what you want me to know if you don’t tell me! If you can’t say it and I can’t hear it, then maybe we just need a third more experienced person to walk us through it! Doesn’t that make sense?”

“You’re a moron,” Bakura spits. “I can’t believe you took what I said to you then and decided _this_ was your best option! Are you bloody serious, Marik?”

“Bakura, please.” Marik’s voice breaks and Bakura grows uncomfortable when he notices the glassy film of his eyes, the lower lip trembling. “I want to work this out. I’m tired of fighting. I care about you and I don’t want to lose you. Don’t you feel the same?”

Bakura sucks in a sharp breath. All he can do is nod and hope he’s not revealing too much by just agreeing. 

Relief replaces the despair on Marik’s face and he smiles, small and genuine.

“Then does this mean you might consider it?”

Bakura frowns and sighs through his nose, staring at a cupboard over Marik’s head instead of the boy himself. He can feel himself beginning to give in, just like he always eventually does. He tries to hold on to his resolve, but Marik’s words and sad face are still fresh in his memory and it truly is a losing battle.

“...It won’t work.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t know that, do you? There’s nothing wrong with trying! Just give it a chance!”

Bakura bites his lip. He thinks for a bit longer, Marik patiently waiting him out, but eventually he slowly nods, keeping his gaze away from Marik’s. Before Marik can get excited at getting what he wants _again,_ Bakura interrupts him.

“But only once.”

Marik, who’s beaming at him now, nods cheerfully in agreement. Bakura, on the other hand, grumbles moodily into his breakfast, attempting to distract from his uneasiness by returning to eating it.

“Don’t worry, Fluffy. It’ll be alright. Just you wait and see! I’ll book us somewhere nice and comfortable. We’ll get through this.”

Bakura doesn’t believe him. Mostly because to get through this mess in Bakura’s heart, Marik has to openly love him and take him to bed and _that’s never going to happen._ Still, he can’t deny the thought at least counts. If Marik wants to face disappointment, Bakura isn’t going to stop him.

He can only hope this isn’t going to blow up in his face like so many of Marik’s plans tend to do. 

* * *

There’s something extremely disconcerting about entering a place like this. The air is still with an uncomfortable quiet Bakura doesn’t like and the low music playing from somewhere he can’t place is supposed to be soothing, but only stands to cause ire within him. It tickles at his senses and puts him on edge. This calm atmosphere seems unnatural.

They aren’t the only ones in the waiting room. Bakura studies the other occupants closely, unable to stop himself from analyzing his surroundings for any threats. There’s a tense couple sitting a seat away from each other, a straight-faced mother and her two downcast children and one man sitting alone by a large potted plant, reading a newspaper. There’s a lady working away behind a desk, tapping her fingers at the computer. She looks up at their entrance and smiles briefly at them before turning her attention back to her work.

There’s an awkward silence as he and Marik loiter at the door, but eventually Marik moves forward to converse with the lady and Bakura falls into the closest empty chair, already ready for this all to end. He can’t even fathom why he agreed to this. He can’t possibly be this weak-willed.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s tensing and glaring suspiciously at anything that moves until Marik is the one that moves into his line of sight. Bakura jumps and sneers, hands itching to reach for his knife, but he ignores his instincts for his beating heart and realizes that the intrusion is only Marik. Biting his lip, he shakes his head and forces himself to act more reasonably, not wanting to let on to Marik about how bothered he is by all of this.

“Well,” Marik says as he falls into the seat right beside Bakura, “looks like we’re early. Better than being late, right?”

“I guess...” Bakura mutters, staring blankly at his lap.

Marik catches on quickly to his mood and smiles encouragingly, rocking sideways to knock their shoulders together. Bakura looks up and the smile widens, becoming more playful. Despite himself, Bakura’s lips twitch up in response and he quickly looks away. Marik chuckles.

“Okay, Fluffy?”

“Never you mind. Bugger off.”

“It’s not so bad. I mean—” Marik waves his arm in a large sweeping gesture at the bulk of the room— “the music’s nice, right? Everyone keeps to themselves. No one stares. The lady at the counter was nice too. I don’t think we have much to worry about here. You can relax.”

Bakura chews on his lip. It’s becoming clear that he’s not doing a very good job at seeming normal. It doesn’t matter what Marik says, all those things aren’t particularly comforting to him. It’s not anything specific that’s bothering him anyway, he just doesn’t like being here.

Bakura scowls and crosses his arms, allowing himself to be as moody as he truly feels. Just because he agreed to come here doesn’t mean he has to act happy about it. Marik’s a fool if he expects anything else out of him.

“A bloody hour can’t come and go quickly enough...”

Marik hums and shrugs, turning away from Bakura to look through the magazines stacked on a side table beside him. After a few moments, he turns back around and holds one out to Bakura. Bakura stares at it like it’s filth on his shoe. Marik isn’t deterred and shakes his head.

“Distracting yourself will probably help, Bakura. Try it. Please?”

Bakura glares but lets up, snatching the magazine out from Marik’s grip and staring at the cover. A male model poses sensually there, wearing one of last year's best summer outfits, showing plenty of skin and toned muscles. Bakura’s entire ire dims in a second and he abruptly decides to give the magazine a chance after all. It might be interesting.

It certainly does its job and distracts him long enough to be surprised when a voice calls out almost twenty minutes later. It’s the lady at the counter.

“Mr. Ishtar, Mr. Bakura, Dr. Rodwell is ready to see you now.”

Bakura looks up and notices that the room has fewer people in it than it did before. None of the people from earlier are here anymore, but a woman now sits near the exit, playing on her phone. Beside him, Marik has apparently given up on reading long ago and only stares in boredom at the space in front of him. Because of this, Marik is slow to register the woman’s voice, but he brightens when he does, pulling his chin away from where it had been resting in his hand.

“Oh! That’s us, Bakura. Let’s go!”

Bakura sighs but doesn’t fight it, following Marik to the woman waiting for them.

“Right this way,” she says, opening a door beside her desk that leads into a long hallway with many other doors. They turn out to be leading into offices, the plaques on them sporting names and what the doctor specializes in. Their psychiatrist for the day is located near the middle of the hallway. Bakura catches sight of her plaque before the door’s opened, but it’s enough to give him pause and reevaluate what he’s just read. 

_Dr. Madison Rodwell, a Psychiatrist specialized in Family and Couples Therapy_

The words seem innocent enough, but there’s something extremely wrong about what they mean. This psychiatrist specializes in two things: families and romantic couples. He and Marik are neither of those things. They should be seeing someone who specializes in less specific relationships. Yet they aren’t...

“Bakura? What’s wrong?”

Bakura’s eyes snap to Marik’s. Worried lavender meets confused brown. Something must be in his expression because Marik is quick to return to his side, leaving the room and waiting psychiatrist behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but Bakura speaks over him.

“What does that plaque say?”

“Huh?” Marik frowns and glances at it only briefly before returning his gaze to Bakura. “Bakura, what—?”

Bakura isn’t interested in explaining himself. Instead, he grabs Marik’s chin and tilts his face to the left, forcing him to stare at the plaque for longer. Marik makes a sound of complaint but as always doesn’t bother pulling away, blinking rapidly with squished cheeks and pursed lips.

“Read the bloody plaque!”

Marik obeys, eyes scanning over it mildly. He does it once, frowns, then does it a second time. It’s the third time that what he’s reading seems to register and his mouth opens in surprise. Bakura lets go of Marik’s face and crosses his arms, defensive and uncertain.

“Why does it say that?”

Marik's just as confused as him.

“I... I don’t know. I asked for an appointment with someone who deals with partners so—”

“You _what?_ I’m sorry, can you run that by me again?”

Marik looks at him.

“We’re not just friends, Bakura, we’re partners! I tried to stress that because I didn’t want to get it wrong and get a bad therapist for us. They said they had an opening for that type of relationship and here we are!”

Bakura stares. He slowly breathes in.

“Marik, you utter buffoon,” he says on the exhale, shaking his head in complete amazement. “How do you keep making such careless mistakes? You can’t possibly be unaware that partner can mean a _romantic couple._ You aren’t that hopeless, are you?”

Marik scoffs.

“Of course not! I know that.” He pauses, a slow realization dawning on his face. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh._ A smashing contribution, Marik. Now, what do we do?” Bakura wasn’t going to say it initially, but it tumbles from his mouth before he can stop it. “Go in and pretend to be a couple?”

He scowls when Marik scrunches his face up at the idea. What a feeling to know where Marik stands on _that_ desire. He can already feel the usual frustration welling up in him—he’s about ready to just turn around and go home, forget all this nonsense and recklessly forge on, when a soft voice interrupts them.

“Sirs, please, if you don’t mind, I do believe it’s time to get started. We only have an hour. Let’s not waste it.”

Dr. Rodwell stands behind them, looking calmly between them. When they both look at her, she smiles pleasantly.

“Conversations aren’t meant to be had out here anyway. Please come in.”

Bakura wavers, turning to Marik for a way forward. Marik stares at the floor, looking to be thinking very hard. Bakura holds his breath, waiting for Marik’s dismissal, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he bites his lip and straightens his back, striding forward. Bakura’s brows wrinkle, he’s confused but curious. He doesn’t know what Marik is thinking, but Bakura isn’t going to deny that there might be an opportunity here. Walking away now seems like the lesser option. He finds he wants to know where this will go.

The room attempts to be comfortable. The couch looks soft and inviting, but everything else feels so lifeless, so sterile, it cancels the rest out. Of course, maybe he’s the only one to walk into this quiet space and feel that way.

Marik sits next to the window, leaning up to peer out of it curiously. It’s a bad decision because Bakura knows he’ll be distracted by it the whole session. Though it leaves Bakura the chance to sit on the other side, closer to the door, exactly where he needs to be for a sudden quick escape. Dr. Rodwell sits in front of them in a comfy looking chair, writing something on her clipboard.

“Alright,” she says, smiling at them. “As you know, I’m Dr. Rodwell. It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you both introduce yourselves and we’ll get started.”

Marik turns away from the window and beams.

“I’m Marik!” He turns to Bakura. “And this fluffy little ball of sunshine is Bakura!”

Bakura growls, sending a sharp glare Marik’s way.

“ _Marik..._ ”

Marik quickly brings his hands up in surrender, humour on his face. He shakes his head.

“Joking, joking~!”

Bakura contemplates harm, but his attention is summoned by the therapist’s next words.

“It’s apparent that you two are very close. How long have you been together?”

“Too long,” Bakura gripes sourly.

It’s a mistake. Dr. Rodwell’s eyes are on him instantly.

“And why do you say that, Bakura? Do you feel dissatisfied with this current arrangement?”

_Bloody hell._

Marik is looking at him. Worry sketches into his face, but apprehension and acceptance are there too. It occurs to Bakura that Marik has already decided whatever is happing in their relationship is his fault. He isn’t exactly wrong, but he isn’t right either. Bakura’s the one who willingly put himself in a situation he is never going to find what he’s truly yearning for. He still cares about Marik, he still likes being his friend and being around him. He doesn’t want Marik to think he doesn’t.

All of this is good, he just wants _more._

Bakura refuses to answer. By doing so, it becomes an answer in itself. Marik’s expression falls into dismay and he slumps sadly. Bakura does his best to ignore it.

“I see.” She looks at Marik. “And how do you feel, Marik? Are you content?”

Marik bites his lip and glances Bakura’s way, hesitation clear in his expression.

“Y-Yes, I am, but...” He frowns and stares at his lap. “I’m not truly happy unless Bakura is.”

“Marik,” Bakura starts, surprised. “I don’t think—”

“What do you need, Bakura? I’ll do anything to make you happy again.”

Determination shines in Marik’s eyes and Bakura falters under the way Marik's looking at him. He grows tongue-tied, not able to even begin to try to unravel everything between them. What is he supposed to say? Bringing anything he feels up will just further strain their relationship—he doesn’t understand what Marik feels enough to allow the words to slip through.

Bakura grinds his teeth, shaking his head and glaring into his lap. As he had expected, this isn’t going to work. They’re back where they started. It’s just one big loop of disappointment.

“Now is the right time to speak your mind, Bakura,” Dr. Rodwell says gently. “We won’t get anywhere without some honesty. Don’t you feel Marik deserves to know what is bothering you?”

“It’s not... that simple...” Bakura’s nails dig into his jeans. He keeps his head down. “He doesn’t _want_ to know. It’s always been like that.”

“Does he dismiss your feelings?”

“...I suppose so. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Bakura?” Marik is attempting to look at Bakura, but the curtain of hair keeps his face out of view. “Bakura, what are you talking about? I wouldn’t have suggested coming here if I didn’t want to know!”

“No,” Bakura snaps back and he whips his head up to regard Marik viciously. “You just want a way to keep me quiet! Anything to keep you away from having to confront your own feelings directly, right, Marik?”

“W-What?” Marik chuckles and it’s nervous. “I-I don’t know what you mean by that...”

“Oh, really? Well, excuse me, Marik, if I don’t bloody believe you!”

“Please. Stay calm. Yelling like this won’t help anything,” Dr. Rodwell cuts in. “Bakura, please be more clear. Marik isn’t going to respond well to baseless accusations. Tell him what you need from him.”

Bakura’s glare wavers and his shoulders slump. He stares, wary and distrustful, and maybe it’s Marik’s quiet discomfort or the utter lack of progress he’s had with Marik thus far that’s leaving him raw and desperate, but words slip out of his mouth unbidden.

“Has sex with me _ever_ crossed your mind?”

Bakura startles himself with such a direct comment, but now that it’s out there he almost wants to say it again and again, just to get the damn words through Marik’s defences until he has no choice but to answer and not deflect. Because that’s what’s going to happen. It’s what always happens. Bakura's words are meaningless. 

Marik’s eyes are wide, but the surprising amount of heat that surfaces on his cheeks makes Bakura slightly hopeful. Marik swallows.

“Um, B-Bakura—” Marik looks anxiously toward the third party in the room before settling his gaze back on Bakura— “that’s not something I can just _say._ ”

“Why? Aren’t we dating? Isn’t that something we should be discussing?”

Marik gives an uncomfortable frown, but he can’t deny the false words in front of the psychiatrist so they instead hang in the air, filling up space between them and keeping them tense with some sort of anticipation.

“A lack of physical intimacy is common among struggling couples. Sometimes both partners are uninterested or interested but unable to breach it or it becomes one-sided.” Dr. Rodwell turns her attention to Marik, eyeing him closely but not judgmentally. “Do you know the reason why physical intimacy isn’t happening on your side?”

Marik stutters. He looks between Bakura and the psychiatrist helplessly, mouth agape. After too long of a pause, Dr. Rodwell rewords her question.

“Are you sexually attracted to your partner?”

Like that’s any better of a way to phrase that. Bakura can’t help the amused smirk as he watches Marik try to figure out how to respond safely. If nothing else happens from this, Bakura can at least say he had a good time watching Marik squirm. It’s certainly brightening his mood up now.

“Or is it possible you don’t experience sexual attraction at all?”

Marik is shaking his head back and forth, amazement blossoming on his features as though he can’t believe what’s being asked of him so bluntly.

“N-No, no, it’s not that...” Marik says. He leans forward suddenly, desperate and hopeful. “D-Dr. Rodwell, is answering these really going to help Bakura? I mean—”

“Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” Bakura scowls. “I said what you wanted to know. The least you could do is give me one measly scrap of an answer.”

Marik looks at him with an expression that implies he wants to challenge Bakura’s words. He keeps it to himself though and breathes in slowly, avoiding the gaze of both Bakura and Dr. Rodwell.

“Bakura's pretty.” He stares at his lap, brows furrowing thoughtfully. “I think that a lot.”

Bakura feels lost at such an admission. He shouldn’t be entirely surprised—he knows Marik is gay—but knowing isn’t the same as hearing him say it. With how tight-lipped Marik is about his sexuality, it often feels to Bakura like he’s the only one feeling anything. The possibility that maybe he does have a chance with Marik pulls at his conscious and the hope this alights in him will especially hurt when he’s somehow proven wrong once again. After all, what good has ever happened to him?

“Where do these thoughts lead? Do they stay at that level or lead to something more intense?”

Marik freezes. His eyes slide back up to meet Dr. Rodwell. He hesitates. There must be something compelling in the psychiatrist’s gaze because Marik continues. 

“...More intense.”

“Do you experience arousal when these thoughts lead that way?”

Marik’s face can’t possibly be any redder. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“...Sometimes...”

“Have you ever indulged in self-pleasure while having these thoughts?”

Bakura, who’s been at the edge of his seat, slumps suddenly and shakes his head. It’s been amazing hearing Marik admit to having arousing sexual thoughts about him, but he highly doubts Marik will tell anyone about his masturbation habits. This questioning might as well be declared as done now. Just another brick wall.

Instead of answering, Marik flicks his gaze to Bakura’s slumped form, studying him with an unrecognizable expression. Bakura doesn’t meet his gaze and attempts not to grind his teeth too hard at how unfair this all is. A silence prevails, but it’s only for a moment and suddenly to Bakura’s wonderment, Marik is speaking.

“...Not at first. I tried to keep Bakura thoughts out of that time. I have plenty of material already, but...” The nervous laughter bubbles out from Marik a little too loudly like a cry for help. “...Bakura doesn’t make it easy to hold back. He’s, um, he’s intense a-and passionate. He’s always putting ideas in my head...”

Bakura’s body goes into some type of shock, he feels both hot and cold. The heat flows through his body and warms his face, clouds his mind and makes a small high pitched sound of need to shakily leave his parted lips. He feels far away though like he’s experiencing this somewhere else, leaving him only partly attached to his body, a numbing cold experience. He doesn’t believe the words he just heard are real, he’s clearly dreaming. Does he want to wake up though?

Dr. Rodwell is nodding along, writing on her clipboard. Marik’s attention has fallen on to the outside past the window again, but Bakura thinks a distraction might be deserving right now. How much courage did Marik need to say something like that? Does he understand how important those words are to Bakura?

“So we can safely say you have a sexual interest in your partner, yet it’s a personal one. You keep it to yourself. Clearly, there’s something holding you back. Is it possible for you to identify what that is?”

Marik swallows. He shakes his head in denial, but frustration forms on his face at it. He shakes his head again, denying the previous shake of his head in the process.

“N-No, I do, I do. I just don’t think it’s just one thing. My childhood wasn’t... _the greatest._ My father said some things, lots of things actually, that in further reflection wasn’t particularly good for me to hear...” Marik studies the outside, frowning slightly. “He taught me to hide parts of myself that would displease him. I guess I’ve never been able to let go of the habit even now.”

Bakura frowns. His heart does a funny squeeze and it breaks him out of his stupor, spurring him on to move up the couch thoughtlessly until his hip brushes up against Marik’s. Marik looks quickly up at him, startled and uncertain, but Bakura attempts something he’s not entirely certain he’s even capable of performing correctly. He grabs one of Marik’s hands and encircles it in the coolness of his own, squeezing in what he hopes might be a comforting manner. He’s so used to giving violent or sexual touches, an affectionate touch like this probably feels awkward coming from him. Maybe he should stop.

“B-Bakura,” Marik stutters out, then his face becomes soft and he smiles. Bakura bites his lip when his own hand gets squeezed in return. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

Bakura, finding it difficult to keep his gaze on Marik when their hands are like this, quickly looks away and stares at the ground, willing the schoolgirl crush attitude to leave him alone already. He’s radiating heat off his face again.

“W-Whatever. Just finish what you have to say. You said there were other things. What are they?”

“Oh.” Marik falters, chuckling uncertainly. “The other things are more close to current times. I just don’t— I just don’t—” Marik sighs. “Bakura, I don’t understand what you _want_ from me. Your words are all wrong!”

Bakura scowls, bringing his eyes back to Marik’s own. He promptly pulls his hand away from Marik’s.

“What do you mean? Haven’t I been clear?”

Marik makes a frustrated sound.

“No, you haven’t! All I hear is sex jokes and come-ons, but you never say anything else! What am I supposed to do with those? Those are your desires, not your feelings!”

Bakura flinches back as though hit by an invisible force. He wants to argue, wants to blame every problem they have between them on Marik, but he can’t bring himself to go through the trouble of saying it. He’s uncertain about this type of stuff. Sex is easy to ask for, but emotions aren’t. There’s no way he’ll be so vulnerable as to bring _feelings_ into this discussion. Can’t Marik just read between the lines?

“Hmm,” the psychiatrist breaks in, “it seems to me that the two of you may be struggling with intimacy in general. I have a feeling that neither of you likes to be vulnerable and constantly put up walls that hinders the natural progress of your relationship. It’s frustrating to feel like you’re not on the same page as your partner, but that feeling is only prevailing because neither of you will budge on the matter in fear of rejection.”

Bakura scowls but stays silent. It would be foolish to interrupt now when Dr. Rodwell has managed to push so much more than Bakura has ever done. Her assessment of them is far too accurate and it pisses him off.

Marik frowns.

“So what should we do then?”

Dr. Rodwell smiles.

“A little assignment should suffice. I want you two to practice intimacy. Start off small and once you’re both comfortable move on to the next step. Our goal will be to bridge the gap between you two to the point that a healthy relationship can emerge.”

Bakura eyes her tentatively.

“And what will a healthy relationship between us look like?”

“Well—” Dr. Rodwell leans back in her chair and shrugs— “that depends on the couple. The idea here though is to develop an emotional and physical intimacy that will open the door for a sex life that both of you enjoy.”

Marik flushes.

“W-What? Th-That’s not what I—” But then he looks at Bakura and his voice hesitates. His eyelids lower and he swallows. “Okay...”

Bakura’s heart hammers heavily in his chest. This all sounds far too good to be true. There’s no way Marik will follow through with this. No way.

It’s getting harder and harder not to get his hopes up now. Bugger it all.

“To make it easier for you, I have a little sheet of suggested things you two should do together to create intimacy. Don’t worry, it may seem difficult at first, but eventually everything will come much easier to you. Give it time.”

This isn’t going to work.

* * *

There’s a suffocating silence in the car now. Bakura keeps his gaze out the window beside him, stubbornly staring at a crosswalk and pretending not to notice Marik’s fidgeting. The rustling of paper indicates what he knows to be happening beside him, but he rather not think about it. This will all blow over soon...

“...I don’t understand.”

Bakura tenses at Marik’s words. He tells himself not to but it’s too late, he’s already turning his head to look at his friend. Marik’s brows are furrowed as he scans the paper given to them by the psychiatrist. Bakura scowls at him.

“What don’t you understand?”

“These suggestions... I feel like we do a lot of them already. How is this going to help?”

“Why are you asking me?” Bakura snaps back, the irate attitude a familiar cover he gladly hides behind. “What is it that you want help with anyway? Whatever was said back there is useless to you or me because it wasn’t _real._ Tch.” 

Marik looks at him plainly.

“Of course it was real, Bakura,” Marik says, voice patient and gentle. His lips tilt up in a hopeful smile. “You want our relationship to progress, right? I don’t really know what that means for you... but I want you to know that for me you’re the entire world. I meant all I said back there.”

Bakura grows tongue-tied, completely thrown off by Marik’s decision to continue this conversation. He thought for sure Marik would find ways to ignore all that happened in there, dismiss it all as hearsay and disappointingly move on but he isn’t. In fact, the only one stepping away from what happened in that office is Bakura and he knows exactly why. For all that happened in there, Bakura knows he didn’t exactly let on to anything significant. He managed to keep his desires fairly neutral. He only indulged what Marik—if he isn’t truly a moronic man—already knew.

The personal, more vulnerable stuff, Bakura’s not good at voicing that—but if the psychiatrist is at all right in her assessment as Bakura feels she is, neither is Marik. He can be shockingly honest at times though, the type of honesty that makes Bakura’s heart stutter in his chest and cheeks darken. He can tell Marik wants to hear more out of him, but he can’t fathom how to even speak. He panics, wondering if all of this will fall apart before he can get his bearings well enough to try.

“Wh—What does it say?” Marik looks at him quizzically so Bakura elaborates. “The paper you’re holding. Does it, um, does it... make you uncomfortable?”

“Eh? Why would it do that?” Marik shakes his head, brows furrowed. “It’s all pretty mundane, Fluffy. I mean, the first one on the list just says to just ask your partner how their day was and listen. Don’t I ask you that all the time?”

“What does the last one say?”

“Oh.” Marik shrugs, glancing down at the paper in his hands. “I haven’t gotten that far. Let’s see... _A_ _h._ ”

Bakura watches Marik flush. Marik turns his gaze away and out the window, clearing his throat slightly. He nervously smooths out the paper in his lap.

“...Copulation...”

Despite himself, Bakura smirks.

“Hmm, a big jump from one to the other, isn’t it? You’re sure this flimsy sheet of paper still holds the answers you seek?”

Marik doesn’t answer immediately. He stares out the window, brows together in deep thought. Eventually, his gaze flickers to Bakura and it’s much more serious than Bakura suspects it to be.

“Yeah, I am.”

Bakura falters, lost once more to the uncertainty and incomprehensible nature of the situation. He doesn’t understand what Marik means by that. He does know what’s on that list, right?

Bakura doesn’t get to think too hard about that. He stifles a startled gasp and pleased shiver when Marik reaches over to him and cups his cheek. It’s such an abrupt and unheard-of action, Bakura's certain he somehow fell asleep half-way through this conversation. The smooth glide of Marik’s thumb across his skin forces his gaze to search Marik’s own for answers, swallowing tightly and feeling dizzy.

Marik smiles and gazes at him quietly, seemingly lost in thought, but he eventually remembers to speak. It’s soft and low, far too intimate in the cramped space of the car.

“If it’s alright with you, Fluffy... I want to know what’s in your heart. You’ll show it to me, right?”

Bakura scoffs lightly, feeling his cheeks grow disgustingly warm. Marik can definitely feel it and that makes him embarrassed. It only partly distracts from the soaring feeling within him, the erratic pounding of his excited heart. Marik’s sweet smile and probing eyes are too much under such duress and Bakura's forced to avert his gaze, staring behind Marik instead.

“Idiot,” he murmurs roughly. “Where did you get that line? One of your comic books? To hell with asking stupid questions like that.”

“Bakura.” A little sigh slips past Marik’s lips and he holds Bakura’s cheek more firmly. “I think I need to ask you an important question. I can’t leave it alone anymore. I need to know the truth.”

Bakura bristles at those words. Reluctantly, he lets his eyes connect with Marik’s once more, frowning. He doesn’t like it one bit, but there’s no denying how disconcerted and uncomfortable he feels. Maybe he and Marik are standing on a very thin tightrope and he’s the one about to fall off. That’s not right though—there’s no period he can exist in that allows him to be weak enough for that.

Marik is a special case for him though. Even though he’s dead—had his heart die long before his body—Marik makes it seem like it's somehow possible for him to live again and that perhaps is what’s so bloody terrifying. All these years of emptiness and sorrow, of a vengeful fury leading to nothing but dead ends and dwindling hope, and one boy—barely in adulthood—can bring all that to a standstill? To even _suggest_ such a thing...

Bakura isn’t used to having such feelings. 

Maybe some of the energy bubbling inside of him reaches Marik. The usually bright and lively smile is beginning to dim and crack to reveal a certain anxiousness that may have been there all along, but Bakura isn’t good with his own emotions so it’s unsurprising he is incapable of reading Marik’s. It’s ridiculous to even think he ever could in the first place. He might as well be blind and crippled. 

“W-W-Well, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to! I’m not going to force it out of you.” Laughter chokes out of Marik, the kind that attempts to lighten the mood instead of any true glee. “It’s not like I think so highly of myself that I think I have a right to your thoughts. Just because I said some things myself...”

Marik trails off, growing pensive and even slightly annoyed. He’s not looking at Bakura anymore, he doesn’t have the courage, and something about that coupled with the words just spoken give Bakura pause. It’s like he’s seeing him in an entirely different light than he had before. Or maybe he’s seeing the situation between them as more than just a one-sided internalization on his part.

Despite himself, his body begins to relax. He debates over Marik’s slumped shoulders and defeatist attitude, the fact that he’s still cradling Bakura’s cheek in such a gentle way that he’s become embarrassed for Marik more than himself. He clears his throat to both get Marik’s attention and to dislodge the last of his own insecurities from his system.

“It’s funny... A little while ago you were demanding that I tell you my feelings and what I want from you. Now you’re becoming docile and back-peddling. I do hope you know the Marik I have come to like is confident and unbreakable. Now, if you use your words, I might be capable of answering correctly.”

Marik freezes, staring at him blankly for a few seconds. Then a slow smile curves his lips. He finally lets go of Bakura’s cheek and leans away, chuckling slightly.

“See? This is what I like. When you’re blunt and unyielding and say things clearly, Bakura. Even when I’m acting foolish, you can still bring me back with a few choice words.” Marik watches him, there isn’t anymore hesitation in his face. “The cats out of the bag on my part when it comes to physical stuff between us. If you didn’t care about the other stuff, that would be enough for you, wouldn’t it? You’d be trying to get in my pants even harder. Yet I don’t think you’re going to do that, are you?”

Bakura frowns but shakes his head. It should be simple. The groundwork's all there, but...

“That means there’s something more that you want. But what more could you want? Well, a proper relationship is all that’s left, right?”

Bakura swallows. He doesn’t stop Marik’s train of thought though because he’s already berated Marik for growing uncertain—there’s nothing he can do now but be exposed. Besides, he’d rather have this talk here than in front of the psychiatrist and if all of this works out in his favour, he can privately thank her for jump-starting Marik in this direction for him.

“Is that the type of progression you want for us? For us to start dating?”

Bakura glares at his lap before eyeing Marik from the corner of his eye. He huffs.

“That depends on what even changes from something like that. I’ve had plenty of sex, but I’ve never dated a single soul. Even so, I know what I want to happen—”

“Then tell me.” Marik leans closer again, agitated and desperate. “If it’s not just sex, you have to tell me.”

“It’s not, alright!” Bakura snaps back, cheeks growing red once more in exertion, eyes bright with emotion. “It’s never been that easy! If it was I would have bored of you years ago after the first few rejections. There would be nothing for me here.”

Marik grows silent at that admission and Bakura’s left to bemoan his lack of control for admitting everything in such a biting way. He moves to turn away from Marik, but the teenager quickly grabs his arm, shaking slightly but staying firm in his resolve.

“...I like you. A lot. It’s special when we’re together. There’s not a day that goes by where I’m not thinking about you and your well being. You make me really happy, Fluffy, and all I want to do is make you really happy too.” Marik curls his other hand on Bakura’s shoulder, maybe he’s trying to steady himself. “So, if you feel similarly to me, it’s only natural we start dating. We can use the list as a guideline.”

Bakura glances at the paper still in Marik’s lap. Something clicks in his brain then. There isn’t anything that Marik said that suggested anything other than romance. There’s no way he can interpret it as anything else and he doesn’t want to. If he thinks too hard about it though, he might seriously pass out.

“Bakura?”

Bakura suddenly glares. He shakes his head.

“Screw the bloody guideline, Marik. Just follow my lead, just once.”

And before Marik can register what Bakura just said, he promptly pulls Marik closer and kisses him soundlessly. Marik makes a sharp inhale through his nose at the gesture and the hand on Bakura’s shoulder tightens. He smells like spices and flowers and the heat of him is intoxicating. Bakura is tempted to see what he tastes like too, but holds back for now—as hard as that is for him to do—and pulls away after a few moments, smirking at the shocked and flustered expression Marik is now sporting.

“B-Bakura,” Marik stutters, looking as though he doesn’t quite know how to proceed.

Bakura assesses him quietly before turning to face forward. He makes sure his next words come out as casual indifference, but with an added edge to it that insinuates more underneath.

“Shall we get going then? We’ve been here long enough.”

Marik is silent for a few seconds, then he settles in his seat as well.

“Right. No need to stay here forever...”

Bakura runs his tongue over the curve of his lips, an odd giddy feeling beginning to poison his mind, and wonders belatedly when he’s going to wake up.

* * *

Marik opens the car door for him. This is not a new development, Marik is quite known for small actions like this, but Bakura is on high alert at the change in the direction his life might be heading and latches on to this action as though it’s new to him. He can’t help but think of every romantic novel he’s ever read or the romantic movies he drags Marik to for no other reason than that he simply enjoys them and allows himself to consider the action from their perspective.

The idea is intriguing and more than a little exciting. He’s still convinced something might turn out false in his assessment of the situation, but he’ll let his hopes and dreams play out just a little longer.

“Bakura? You okay?”

Marik is now frowning at him worriedly. He must have stalled too long in thought. Normal, reasonable thoughts have left him though and he feels more in the clouds than ever before.

“Does that stupid piece of paper you were reading say anything about carrying me bridal style?”

Marik hesitates, eyeing Bakura slowly in a way that makes him feel more like jumping out of the car and tackling the poor teenager to the ground than waiting to be carried. He can feel the very little control he may have had before beginning to slip through his fingers with every breath he takes.

“No,” Marik eventually answers, the corner of his lips quirking up in an easy half-smile, “but I’ll do it if you want me to.”

It’s said so simply as though Bakura may only ask for anything and Marik will do it with no complaints on his tongue. It’s a startling prospect and leaves Bakura breathless.

“Kiss me,” he says deliriously, very willing to test that theory out for once. His eyes are alight with wonder he can’t quite erase no matter how he tries.

A small sound of embarrassment escapes Marik’s lips and he avoids Bakura’s eyes for a few stifling moments. Before Bakura can properly register that he’s being rejected in some way, Marik saves the moment by swooping in and quite clumsily attaching their lips together, balancing one knee between Bakura’s legs and holding the edge of the doorway for further balance. Bakura’s brain deteriorates on the spot.

He floats for awhile before weakly reaching up to grasp Marik’s shirt, the chains making a brief chiming sound at the mild disturbance. A pleased moan slowly builds inside of him, but only truly emerges once Marik surprises him by moving his mouth, sending pleasant jolts up and down his body. The sound rumbles between them and Marik sighs contently through his nose in answer. It ends too quickly in Bakura’s opinion, but he commends Marik for latching on to his bottom lip when he pulls away.

There’s a pregnant pause as both stare at each other. Marik is becoming progressively nervous and when he’s nervous he tends to blurt a sea of words out to fill any silence. Bakura isn’t surprised when he starts talking.

“I’m really sorry, Bakura. I should have said something sooner or asked you what you wanted from the start. I made us go to a therapist thinking she could help when we could have fixed this on our own all along. I was even ready to follow some sheet of paper’s wishes just so I didn’t have to figure anything out for myself. I’m a _coward_ —”

“No, you aren’t.” Bakura frowns at him and shakes his head. “You’ve said plenty on your own. It was I who held everything in even after knowing you might feel the same. It’s not your fault you needed a guide. Bloody hell, Marik, I still haven’t _once_ mentioned my feelings for you!”

“That’s okay,” Marik says quietly as though not to startle him. “I understand.”

Bakura looks away, frustration making itself clear on his face. It’s not enough. Nodding along isn't right, keeping his words vague isn’t how he wants to speak to Marik. He has to say it, needs to hear the words in his voice, see the expression Marik makes when he hears him. It’s harder than it should be and makes him disgusted with himself for his foolish behaviour.

But Marik said he liked him, enough to want to date him. There’s nothing to be cautious about anymore. That doesn’t stop him from expecting to wake up on the drive back from the therapist instead of already home once the words leave his vocal cords. He’s had dreams before, he knows how they all end.

He wants to show Marik how committed he actually is to all of this though, challenge him to say the same.

“Marik Ishtar,” Bakura says clearly, forcing his attention to be solely on Marik and nothing else, “it may not have been immediately, but somewhere along the way of knowing you, I felt something new. I didn’t think I of all people would ever feel like this, but I... I........... _I love you._ ”

The last bit is clearly mumbled, but Marik still hears him because his eyes widen and he gasps quietly. Bakura turns bright red and finds himself avoiding Marik’s gaze despite his best efforts. He truly wonders how he can possibly be taken seriously as a villain when he can’t even look at a guy he loves properly. There’s something honestly wrong with him.

Since he’s looking away though he misses Marik moving and therefore is surprised when arms suddenly wrap around his body, a cheek pressing against his own in a small nuzzle. He’s used to Marik’s abrupt affection but this is too much after everything. He didn’t know how to deal with this even before the words were in the open.

“Marik...?” he asks uncertainly.

Marik takes a deep breath in, tickling Bakura’s exposed ear in the process. He squeezes Bakura tighter and murmurs softly to him, just for Bakura to hear.

“I love you too, Bakura. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Bakura huffs and digs his fingers into the back of Marik’s shirt, shaking slightly. He scowls, wishing that he can be a little better at composing himself. Why do emotions like this get him so tied up in knots?

“Like I’d do that,” he manages to spit out. “Once you say it, you can’t take it back. I won't _let_ you take it back!”

Marik laughs and moves to press his lips to Bakura’s right cheek, making the spirit’s senses flare-up in delight. Marik leans his forehead into Bakura’s and grins at him, so bright and carefree that it intoxicates Bakura. He runs his fingers up Bakura’s backside, sending shivers over his skin.

“That’s silly, Bakura. I’m not going to take it back. I’ll even say it again.” Marik makes sure their eyes are connected before speaking next. “I love you.”

“D-Don’t—” Bakura stutters, feeling light-headed and far too blissful for his own good. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look into Marik’s sparkling gaze any longer. “Shut up.”

Marik seems closer now when he answers.

“ _Gladly._ ”

Bakura’s eyes startle awake but it’s too late. Marik has already captured his lips again. Bakura isn’t about to complain and the thrill is still very much there, but he’s beginning to become afraid he might faint if Marik keeps this up. He’ll be embarrassed about that later when he can properly understand his own thoughts again.

“Marik,” Bakura hears himself murmur against Marik’s lips. Marik hums questioningly. “Carry me inside. You said you would.”

Marik pauses, hovering a few centimetres away from Bakura’s face and looking thoughtful. Bakura is almost about to take back his delusional demands on the account of being brain dead when Marik suddenly holds his arms out and smiles modestly.

“Sure, but I don’t know how well I’ll do at it. I might be too weak to carry you... n-not that you’re heavy or anything, Fluffy!”

Bakura eyes Marik’s currently exposed arms which hold quite a bit of noticeable muscle and almost scoffs at the mere idea of Marik being weak. Noticing Bakura’s displeasure, Marik laughs nervously and tries for a winning smile. It’s too attractive for any sane gay man, least of all Bakura, to stay unaffected by it.

“Come on,” Marik says, “let’s go inside.”

Bakura can’t say he’s ever been carried before, but he might invest in it more now that he knows how appealing it is. Marik has gone along with the bridal style approach, the go-to way of carrying someone, and it doesn’t seem to be much of a bother to him. Bakura has wrapped his arms around Marik’s neck and peers inquisitively up at him as they move. He’s become calm in the last few moments and thoughts bubble to the surface, words begging to be released now that he can understand them. He allows them. 

“Are you _really_ going to have sex with me?”

Marik huffs slightly, the briefest moment of annoyance fluttering his pristine features.

“Jeez, Bakura,” Marik complains, “it’s like you don’t listen! Why would I have said all those things back there if I didn’t want—want to—” Bakura watches in amusement as Marik swallows and shifts his eyes nervously. “I want to do things with you that I wouldn’t do with other people,” he softly decides.

“Ooooh.” Bakura smirks. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Marik grinds his teeth and refuses to look at Bakura. “So you don’t have to keep asking for clarification. You’re my boyfriend now, so it’s oka—”

“I am? When did you decide this? Why wasn’t I informed?”

Marik stops walking. They’re standing in front of the door to the underground living arrangement Marik made for them years ago—which in hindsight reveals a forever deal Bakura hasn’t contemplated much on. It’s overwhelming when he thinks too much about it so he stops it in its tracks.

Marik stares at him, perplexed.

“I did say we should date, right?”

“Hmm, that’s true. I guess I just need the details shown to me before I know what I’m getting.”

Marik frowns, but Bakura catches suspicion in the expression.

“Are you trying to trick me into doing naughty things with you once we get inside?”

Bakura snorts and hides his face in Marik’s shoulder.

“Well, you said it, not me.”

“ _Bakura._ ”

“What are we standing around here for? Are you waiting for an invitation, Marik?”

“To home or your body?” 

Bakura’s eyes widen and he quickly looks at Marik, but the teenager is already staring resolutely forward and wiggling the doorknob open. Bakura licks his lips.

“Marik...”

Marik laughs brightly and uses his foot to push the door open. As he leads them through the door, Bakura realizes he has no idea what might happen next, but that whatever it might be he’s going to enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ^^


End file.
